


the proving grounds

by ScreechTheMighty



Series: One is Quick, the Other's Tall [1]
Category: Titanfall
Genre: Backstory, First Meeting, Gen, Google Translate Spanish, How Cooper Got His Groove, Not Beta Read, There's a few OCs but they're not in focus, rated for language, so many headcanons, tags to be updated as fic progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: The story of a captain, a rifleman, a very bad few days, and the potential that Tai Lastimosa saw in Jack Cooper.





	1. quiet before the storm

**Author's Note:**

> Me, Phase-Shifting back into this fandom with an L-Star and Starbucks: _are y'all ready for some self-indulgent slow-updating bullshit because the Titanfall hype train is leaving the station._
> 
> (Just as a quick note, most of the OCs in this fic are going to be one-off kind of guys. The only exception is Karen, someone who is mentioned in this chapter. She's going to show up in-person in later fics (whenever I write them) and is head of the Vanguard development team. Tai is a friend of hers. I just bring this up so you won't be confused. She's chill.)

Tai Lastimosa was getting old.

He knew because he could remember when the Militia was a bunch of pissed-off civilians looking to start a fight. Now they had ranks and a cohesive look and barracks that weren’t a cluster of tents and some guy’s barn. The uniforms and supplies were still a bit scraped together, sure, but it was a visible improvement over those desperate early days.

He’d always known, always said that they’d be able to pull it together if they were just given the opportunity. It felt good to know he’d been right.

“How’s the evacuation been going?” Lastimosa asked.

“Well as it can be with how stubborn some people are.” Commander Edwards rolled his eyes “You know how it is. Some people think they can take on the IMC all by themselves.”

“We all did at one point.” Still, he understood Edwards’ frustration. The Militia worked because they were unified. They couldn’t keep track of every lone wolf with a gun that wanted to do things on their own. That was why they tried to get civilians out of the way when the fighting got too close— _tried_ being the important word. “I’ll see what I can do. How’s that coms tower coming?”

“We’ve got the MRVNs working on it, should be…” Edwards squinted in the direction of the slowly-forming structure, still spindly and precarious-looking. Lastimosa could think of five ways it’d offer a good vantage point, but all of them ran the risk of him busting an ankle if he wasn’t careful about it. Despite this, it looked like there was someone climbing near the top—someone who _didn’t_ look like a MRVN. “Ah, _shit_ , this again…hang on.”

Edwards jogged off towards the tower. Lastimosa wondered if he should get involved, figured _probably not,_ but also decided that he _had_ to know. He caught up with Edwards in time to hear the Commander start yelling: “ _Rifleman, what the **fuck** are you doing?_ ”

That _definitely_ wasn’t a MRVN up there, then.

The person—dark hair, beard, Rifleman’s uniform, young-looking—glanced down from where he was perched on the scaffolding. He _had_ rigged up a rappelling system, but it was questionable looking at best. “Helping with the wiring, sir?” called down the Rifleman sheepishly.

“ _Get down here, Cooper!_ ”

The Rifleman scaled back down the tower, easily as if he were walking down the street. Lastimosa actually double-checked to make sure the kid didn’t have any SRS markings on his armor. He was light on his feet for being just a Rifleman. He also looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “Sorry, Commander, the MRVNs were having trouble with…”

Edwards silenced the Rifleman with a stern glare. “Private, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but we need all hands on desk for this defense. I can’t risk you breaking your neck doing maintenance. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Understood, sir.” The Rifleman caught sight of Lastimosa. His eyes widened, and the already red flush of his ears grew redder. “Uhm.”

Edwards glanced over his shoulder. To his credit, he didn’t smile at the Rifleman’s discomfort, though he looked for a second like he wanted to. “You want to be useful? We still need help getting the fences shored up on the west side.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get on that.” The Rifleman made fleeting eye contact with Lastimosa, nodding to acknowledge his present. “Captain, sir.”

To _his_ credit, the Rifleman didn’t run. It was a hasty retreat, but he was subtle about it. “Fucking hell, am I gonna have to start putting leashes on the privates?” Edwards rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, we were talking about the communication situation?”

“Yeah, I need to make contact with _Renegade_ , make sure they’re ready for Titanfall.” He wanted to check up on BT, too. Not that the Titan _needed_ it, but Lastimosa had promised he’d call when he was settled in.

_You can’t treat him like he’s a child, Tai._ Karen’s voice echoed in his head; he could picture that _look_ she got when he was getting too sentimental about the Titans again. _He’s the intellectual equivalent of an adult. You don’t have to coddle him._

If she were here, he’d repeat what he always said when she accused him of coddling BT: _It’s not coddling. It’s being nice. He’s my partner._

And a damn good one at that.

“Well, this should be done before nightfall. You can give it a shot on the regular coms but I know what it’s like.”

“Unreliable and irritating?”

“I was thinking something a bit harsher, but yeah, that,” Edwards snorted. “We can check the latest intel while we’re at it. They have to have figured out _something_ about where those bastards are coming from by now.”

That was the hope, but the IMC had been getting clever. They knew they couldn’t just overwhelm the Militia with numbers anymore. They had to get creative. They’d even started using some of the Militia’s own tactics against them. It meant the IMC was worse off than when this war had started, but it made things more difficult, too. It slowed the fighting down.

Sometimes Lastimosa wondered if _time_ was something they had the luxury of. He’d never admit it—hell, none of them would. After Demeter, it was easier to carry on as if that had permanently severed contact with the core worlds until proven otherwise. But they all knew. The IMC’s home base could send backup one day. The only question was whether they’d find a free and fortified Frontier when they did or a still ongoing war that they could tip the scales of.

_So, we’d better get our asses in gear and keep winning_. Starting with this fight, then moving on to the next, until this thing was over or they were all dead.

The communications setup they had was _barely_ able to make contact with the _Renegade._ The planet’s atmosphere made communication with anyone in orbit difficult unless you had the right signal booster. It was going to make calling for Titanfall a _bitch_ , but he could handle it. Lastimosa had been through worse. “So far they’re still quiet. Doubt it’s going to stay that way for long.”

“ _Well, keep your head down for now,_ ” said Captain Benson. “ _Remember, we’re the ace in the hole. As long as we have the element of surprise…_ ”

“I know, I know.” Two pilots dropping in out of nowhere could do wonders for your odds. “I’m just a visiting officer, nothing special. Hey, BT, how are you doing?”

“ _Intact and ready for combat,_ ” BT replied, his voice a low rumble. “ _Waiting on your word, pilot. Are you all right?_ ”

“So far, so good. Just hoping the communications tower gets set up before things get hairy.”

No response.

“Hello?” Lastimosa tested the connection. “BT? Benson?”

Nothing.

“Shit.” Well, guess that was that until that coms tower was up. At least MRVNs didn’t need to sleep, so he wouldn’t have to worry about nightfall slowing their progress.

Until then, he had intel files to go over, and a possible recon expedition to plan. He could call BT once the coms tower was up and running—assuming the IMC didn’t decide to finally make an appearance and ruin his entire day.

He didn’t _want_ it to happen. But Lastimosa knew there were no guarantees in war. Better to plan for the worst and not have it happen than pray the worst didn’t come and be unprepared when it did.


	2. First Impact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that update took ten million years. Turns out I'm SUPREMELY bad at fight scenes and that's why I was struggling with this chapter. I think I had four different versions of it including this one. Hopefully the next chapters won't be such a struggle.

People asked him why he slept with his gear on even when there was a barracks available. _It’s secure enough to set up beds, Tai. You’re going to be fine. What are you so twitchy about?_

Well, for starters, being woken up at God only knew what hour by a frazzled-looking rifleman.

“Captain. Captain, coms are down. It’s not the tower, we already checked.”

_That_ woke him up. Lastimosa sat up and reached for his helmet. “How long?”

“Not long, sir. Commander wanted to see you outside as soon as…”

Lastimosa put on his helmet as the rifleman spoke. The helmet always brought him a lot of clarity—heightened awareness of his surroundings, heightened sense of safety. He swore he could always hear just a little bit better. That was helpful in a lot of situations—for example, when he was calling down a Titan. They made a very distinctive sound during the drop.

He’d know that sound anywhere.

He heard it once his helmet was on.

It wasn’t BT. He hadn’t called for Titanfall. There were no other Militia Titans, which meant…

_Son of a **bitch.** It’s an assault._

“Where’s Edwards?”

“I can take you to him. I take it we’re fucked, sir.”

He said it so calmly that Lastimosa almost laughed. _That’s the spirit._ “We might be if we’re not careful. Just stay close to me.”

Easier said than done. It was already a madhouse by the time they got out of the barracks, and the incoming Titans weren’t their only problem. There was the crash of mortars, the sound of gunfire, and from the sound of it they had at least one Scorch on their hands. The coms were still down, but at the very least they still had their voices— _two hostile Titans, specters coming in from the east!_

Two Titans. Okay, this was going to be a workout, then.

“How many anti-Titan weapons do we have?”

“There should be something towards the front…what’s the plan, sir?”

“Still working on that.” It’d be easier if the Titans were separate and not backing each other up—wouldn’t be his luck, though. He hadn’t had the best luck so far. “Let’s get to Edwards and…”

He was cut off by an explosion not too far away. The mortars were getting closer. _Shit_. “…figure it out from there.”

They ran across the camp to Edwards’ position. One of the Titans was already getting close—a Scorch, but one of the older models that looked more Ogre than the new models. He’d be impressed that they’d kept it running if he hadn’t been figuring out how best to destroy it. “I need whatever anti-Titan weapons you’ve got and some covering fire!” he called as he approached.

Edwards immediately passed him a MGL. “We’ve got the Scorch coming in from the front and an Ion to the east,” he said. “No idea where the jammer is.”

“One thing at a time. Tell them to focus fire on the Ion. I’ll be there in a minute!”

The paranoid part of him, the superstitious old man, regretted saying that. Like he’d jinxed himself. He shoved the thought aside, along with any doubt or insecurity, as he ran into the battlefield.

Holo pilot feinting to the left. Cloak and approach from the left. He’d done this before, dozens of times, so many he’d lost count. The sounds of the battle raged around him as he moved in, but without the sound of his fellow Militia fighters in his ears, it felt like he was completely alone there. Tai Lastimosa versus the entire IMC.

Not a situation anyone wanted to be in.

But he wasn’t alone, as the volley of anti-Titan weaponry that came after he was finished yanking the battery from the Titan’s chassis. The combined attacks left the Titan weak enough that a second rodeo was all it took. He didn’t stop to enjoy the sound of the Titan’s explosion. He had to get to that Ion.

Despite himself, Lastimosa tried calling the _Renegade._ “Benson? BT? It’s Tai. How copy, over?”

Nothing. And they wouldn’t send down BT, or any backup for that matter, without Lastimosa’s go-ahead. They _had_ to beat back this assault so he could find the signal jammer.

_Focus on that Ion, Tai, that’s the only thing you have to worry about right now…_

The Ion was already smoking when he reached it, but judging from the retreating Militia troops and the many burn marks around the environment, any damage they’d given it had been hard-earned.  Lastimosa was making his approach when he heard that sound again, that distinctive falling sound.

_All right, that’s how it’s going to be._

He’d worry about them later. Right now he had to focus on the Ion, while it was still weak.

Rodeoing the Ion gave him a better view of the camp. The new Titan—Ronin, from the look of it—had landed _inside_ the camp. The two he’d taken out must have been a lure to get him or any other pilots away from the camp. The sight was almost enough to distract him from the fact that the Ion under his fingers felt…a bit _too_ warm.

A low, humming whine began to fill his ears. It was a sound he’d heard before, more than once.

_Nuclear eject. Nuclear eject, **fuck**._

It wasn’t often that you saw a pilot running _away._ But Lastimosa pushed off the Titan and started running like the hounds of hell were after him. Nuclear eject was devastating, but it had a limited range, and if he could just get out of-

The explosion behind him blocked out the rest of that thought.

When Lastimosa opened his eyes, he was lying on his back, staring up into clouds of smoke and a night sky. Everything _ached_ , and his head was spinning. He couldn’t remember what he’d done to make his knee hurt like it did, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t have time for this. No time to slow down.

People would die if he did.

He got up. Putting weight on the leg only made the pain worse, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on ahead. He tried BT again as he went. “BT, if you can hear me, I could use the backup…”

Nothing. He swore quietly and picked up the pace.

Inside the camp was a shitshow; he had to dodge and weave his way through Stalkers, taking shots where he could without slowing down on his way to the Ronin. It had taken some damage by the time he arrived, but was still going strong, mowing its way through a cluster of riflemen trying to get away. Lastimosa aimed for its knee with the MGL. It was already weak, and buckled after two shots. He could hear it grinding as the Titan struggled to get back up.

_Stay down, bastard, stay **down.**_

Almost as if karma were hitting early, Lastimosa felt himself go down as he aimed to take a shot at its weak point. What the _fuck_ had that nuclear eject done to him earlier? He lifted his head in time to see the Titan’s escape hatch closing. There was no sign of the pilot—nothing visible anyway.

_Two can play that game, asshole._

He couldn’t make himself get up, so Lastimosa forced himself to roll out of the way as he disappeared from view. As he dragged himself to his feet, he saw a faint shimmer stop not too far away.

Usually he’d feel a little bad, but today he couldn’t bring himself to as he drew his pistol and shot several times towards the shimmer.

The body faded back into view as it hit the ground.

And of course, he didn’t get a half-second to feel relief, because that was when he saw a giant metal fist coming straight for him.

Lastimosa dodged it just barely, but landed on his ass in the attempt. Even though the pain felt like it would tear his leg in half, he scrambled out of the way of another swing and made a break for nearby building. He was barely able to get inside and to cover before he heard the repeated, howling cough of the Ronin’s shotgun. It emptied the whole damn clip, blowing the door off its hinges in the process and shattering the windows.

_Shit_ , he though a bit deliriously, _that would’ve been a hell of a way to go._

No time to dwell on that. He had to keep moving. An injured Titan could still be dangerous. The thought had barely left his mind as he got up and moved from behind cover before he was knocked directly back on his ass by a bright light and another explosion.

Another nuclear self-destruct. _Fuck_ , he should’ve seen that coming.

Getting up was harder this time; even lifting his head hurt, and he was sure he tasted blood. Hopefully that was from biting his cheek and not anything worse. _But even as his body said, I’m done, it’s fine, we had a good run,_ his mind screamed at him to get up. _Get up, Tai, on your feet, there’s Spectres coming, **get up…**_

Wait.

He stopped struggling and listened. Sure enough, there were footsteps approaching, heavy ones with creaking metal joints. Lastimosa swore and dragged himself back to cover. It only sounded like one, but he could barely _stand_. Even one was going to be a problem.

_No choice, Tai, get your ass in gear…_

The footsteps entered the room. He saw the single  glowing eye start to fix on him.

Then he heard more footsteps, lighter and faster, and saw a figure charge over—not coming for _him,_ but for the Spectre. Before the thing had time to react, the figure slammed into it and jammed something into its head. Lastimosa heard a whir and a click. The Spectre straightened up, placid and friendly.

_What…_

Lastimosa’s rescuer pulled the object free from the Spectre’s heads and stepped back. It was a rifleman. Not just any rifleman, either; it was the one who’d climbed the tower the day before.

“…well?” gasped the rifleman, who looked shocked that this had worked. “Go on, get out of here!” The Spectre turned and walked away. It probably wouldn’t last long out there, but better it than them. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Been better.” Lastimosa smiled, even though the rifleman couldn’t see it. “Help me up?”

The rifleman hauled him up. “We’re falling back. There’s a rally point in the woods…” Lastimosa tried to walk on his own, but had to lean on the rifleman after a few steps. “…at least you took care of those Titans so we just have the Spectres to deal with.”

“That’s the spirit.” Lastimosa stumbled again, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Still, we might want to stay out of sight if we can."

“No complaints here.”

That was easier said than done; they had to dodge in and out of buildings to stay out of sight, and Lastimosa’s bad knee wasn’t helping their progress speed. The sprint from the camp to the trees was one of the most harrowing of Lastimosa’s life, but they made it. Somehow, they made it.

_About time my luck turned around_.

Lastimosa wasn’t sure where they were going, eve n with his night vision, but fortunately Cooper seemed to. When they stopped, it wasn’t at the rally point; it looked like a small cave formed by a rocky outcropping. “Oh, thank Jesus,” breathed the rifleman. “We can stop here. I don’t know how much further I can go in the dark.”

“Fine by me. I don’t know how much further I can go with this leg.” He couldn’t play tough with this, not when the rifleman was practically carrying him. He’d been able to ignore it for most of their dash out of camp, but now, as they staggered as far back into the cave as they could go, he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

_This isn’t going to look good on my report._

He didn’t have to ask; the second he was on the ground, the rifleman knelt next to him and started rummaging through his pack. “I have some things I grabbed on the way out…what do you need?”

“Don’t suppose you have a new leg in there?”

That got a chuckle out of the rifleman. “No, sir, but I think I have painkillers.”

He did have painkillers. The good news was that his leg didn’t hurt anymore. The bad news was between the painkillers and the exhaustion of the night so far, Lastimosa could feel himself starting to go. He struggled to stay awake as he walked the rifleman through the shots he’d need to be even a little mobile by morning. Assuming they weren’t found.

“How’s your ammo look?” Lastimosa asked, throwing the question out there to keep himself from falling asleep.

“I’ll be okay if we get cornered. You should get some rest, Captain. I can keep watch.”

Lastimosa laughed dryly. “That obvious, huh?”

“I heard those Titans explode. I wouldn’t be in great shape either.” He could just see the rifleman’s tired smile through his night vision. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry.”

Lastimosa wasn’t sure if it was the painkillers or the memory of the rifleman climbing the tower with no effort, but he believed the man.

“Wake me if anyone shows up,” he said—or at least, he thought he did. He was already slumping over and drifting off. The last thing he did before sinking into unconsciousness was try to hail BT again.

“Still alive down here. Don’t worry, I’ll sort this out.”

Tomorrow. Once he’d slept this off.

Tomorrow he’d sort this out.


	3. eye of the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha whoops, so much for this chapter coming out sooner...sorry about that. Life is crazy and I'm just rolling with the punches. Also, this chapter is just me being self-indulgent with my headcanons. That's what happens when I'm given a mentor/father figure side character with barely any backstory that we know of.

He woke up suddenly. It had been one of those nights where he felt like he’d been dreaming, but couldn’t remember anything when he opened his eyes. Lastimosa groaned quietly and lifted his head. His mouth felt dry and his leg was still killing him.

“ _Fuck_.”

Someone moved; he nearly reached for his gun, but relaxed when he remembered who it was. Right, the rifleman. “It’s Cooper, right?” Lastimosa asked, his voice a hoarse croak.

The rifleman’s gaze finally moved away from the entrance to their cave. There was more brush covering the opening, brush that definitely hadn’t been there before. Smart man. “Yes, sir. Private Jack Cooper. How do you feel?”

“I feel like shit, but I saw that coming.” Lastimosa sat up as best he could. The cave seemed a lot more cramped now that it was daylight and he was fully conscious, but at least they were out of sight. He pulled his helmet off. “I’m gonna need a few more shots if you want me on my feet. Think you can manage?”

Cooper nodded and scooted back down the cave, dragging the pack with him. “A few specters came through, but they walked by us,” he said. “No friendlies, or none that I saw. Coms are still down, too.”

Lastimosa had thought so. He’d _hoped_ otherwise, but he’d tried to be realistic about it. He gave the rifleman another slow look. “What about you? Are you holding up okay?”

“I’m not hurt. I’d kill for a hot shower, but I’ve felt that way for a while.” Cooper started pulling out medical supplies as he spoke. “Do you think any of the others made it?”

“I’m sure some did. Edwards knows what he’s doing. It’s the signal jammer I’m worried about, especially if it’s mobile.” He took one of the syringes from Cooper. “All they’d have to do is follow us around and pick us off. We have to take it out or we’re sitting ducks.”

Cooper nodded. “I didn’t notice anything airborne last night…not that I was looking up, bit busy at the time…”

Lastimosa chuckled, a sound that was cut off by a slight hiss as he stabbed the needle into his leg. It would take a minute for the medicine to kick in; he tried to massage some of the tenseness from his knee as he waited, but it wasn’t helping. “My guess is it’s something on the ground. Signal jammer that powerful tends to be on the bigger side, so they’d need a bigger ship to carry it around…”

“And big ships make noise. We would’ve heard it coming.”

“Exactly. Big truck, though, especially in the farmlands like this? No one would be the wiser.” That would also make it hard to track down—unless it was trailing them with their IMC friends. “How far to the next Militia camp?”

“Far enough that they have time to pick us off before we get there.” Cooper offered him an energy bar. “It’s all gone a bit SNAFU, I think.”

“Just a bit.” Lastimosa examined the kid carefully as he opened the bar. Cooper seemed alert, but there was a definitely exhaustion clinging underneath his eyes. “Tell you what, why don’t you take twenty and I’ll think about our next move? If they haven’t found us here yet, I doubt they’re going to any time soon.”

Any desire Cooper might’ve had to look tough dissipated quickly at the thought of even a short nap. “Yes, sir.” He slumped with his back against the wall almost immediately. “If you need anything else…”

“I’m a big boy, Coop, don’t worry about me. You rest. You’ll need it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice after that; the Rifleman was out like a light within seconds. Lastimosa was going to feel bad about waking him, but he checked the time in his helmet anyways so he’d have a benchmark for those twenty minutes. They couldn’t afford to stop much longer than that—bad leg or not, sleep deprivation or not. Not when the situation _was_ all fucked up.

Lastimosa considered their options as he slowly ate the energy bar and had some water. They could try to link up with the others, but that didn’t solve the problem of them not being able to call for help. On a good day, when he was in top shape, he’d be a lot more confident about his ability to possibly track down and take out the signal jammer himself. Today he had a knee that still didn’t feel like it’d support his weight for very long and a rifleman to worry about.

Then again, maybe he could use Cooper to his advantage. He’d done all right so far. Between the two of them, maybe they stood a fighting chance.

Maybe.

They’d have a better chance if he could call for BT, which was a point in favor of taking out the signal jammer as quickly as possible. Lastimosa was briefly distracted from his planning by wondering how much BT was going to worry when he saw the state of Lastimosa’s leg. Hopefully he wouldn’t blame himself too much.

Could Titans blame themselves? He’d have to ask Karen once he saw her again.

Cooper stirred briefly in his sleep, then stilled. When Lastimosa leaned over to check on him, he was still out cold. He looked a lot younger then—sleep did that to a person, but then again, he couldn’t have been much older than his early 30s. Cassie’s age, maybe. There were a lot of people like him in the Militia, kids either too young to remember life on Earth or who’d been born in the Frontier. They cared about what happened more fiercely than any Earth-born settler. This was their home. They didn’t have anywhere else.

Not that Lastimosa had anywhere on Earth or the core systems to go. He was sure his extended family would welcome him back, but even if he hadn’t been declared a war criminal, he’d rather die in the Frontier than go back to Detroit…or worse, that tin can floating around Jupiter. At least here he’d die with fresh air in his lungs.

_Though not dying would be better, I think._

Which had him back to the problem at hand—how to handle their jammer situation. Big truck meant they would have to take a road—the forest was too dense otherwise. He knew of a few nearby from the briefing. Cooper would probably be able to tell him which one was going in the same direction as the rally point once he was awake.

_Poor guy’s day isn’t going to get any easier._

That thought almost drove him to let Cooper sleep a bit longer, but duty was calling and waiting around wasn’t going to make this any easier. Once the twenty minutes was up, Lastimosa leaned over and shook Cooper’s ankle. “Hey, private. Time to go.”

Cooper woke up almost immediately, his grip tightening on the gun in his hands as he looked around. “Everything okay?” he said, sounding like his mind was still a few steps behind.

“We’re all right. But I’m going to need your help with something.” Lastimosa edged closer as Cooper sat up and rubbed his eyes. “You know the roads around here?”

“More or less. I think…” He started rummaging through his bag, retrieving a tablet and tapping away at the screen. “I should still have a map, a rough one at least. Why?”

“I’m trying to find the one that runs closest to the path to the rally point. That’s probably the route the signal jammer is taking.”

“We’re going to intercept it on the road?”

 _We_. So much for asking Cooper to volunteer; it seemed he was already eager to get going. “That’s the plan. If we can get that out of the way, I can call for Titan support.”

Cooper’s eyes lit up. “Shit, yeah, that’d be nice. Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. You have blanket permission to swear. SNAFU, remember?” That got a smile out of the kid, though a small and embarrassed one. “If there’s a time to swear, it’s now.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Cooper pulled up the map. “Rally point is here…closest road is here, though they could go this way too.”

Fifty-fifty chance. Lastimosa hummed softly as he weighed the two options against each other. “What do you think?”

Cooper was quiet at first, examining the map carefully. “…if it were me, I’d use this road,” he said, indicating the first road. “More direct route, wider, fewer places they can be ambushed. Makes our job harder, but…”

Lastimosa nodded. “Then we’ll start there. It looks like the roads run close to each other here, if we can make it in time...we might be able to course-correct to the other road if we’re wrong. Good thinking.”

Cooper looked taken aback by the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

You’d think no one had ever said a positive thing to him before. That struck Lastimosa as strange, with how useful he’d been so far. Either Cooper had a hard time taking a compliment or he’d flown under the radar with how useful he could be.

“You ready for this?” Lastimosa asked.

“Not really, but it’s like my aunt always says… _Deja de quejarte y hazlo._ ” Cooper paused, then added, “Stop complaining and do it.”

Lastimosa laughed. “I like your aunt.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” Cooper edged towards the entrance to the cave and listened carefully. “Sounds all clear.”

Lastimosa nodded and followed him out. Standing hurt like a bitch, but not as badly as it did the day before. He could hobble on his own power. Still, he was going to need a knee brace for a bit when this was over.

They walked in silence at first, the only sounds around them the movement of various animals as they scurried about the branches above. Usually, Lastimosa would have wanted to keep radio silence, but Cooper looked just this side of too tense.  Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know the man. “You come up here with your aunt? Or were you born here?”

Cooper shook his head. “No, I was born in…I think my mom said Texas? My parents brought me here with a bunch of extended family. My aunt included. We work on the same farm.”

“Which planet?”

“Persephone.”

Lastimosa gave a low whistle. “Heard the winters there are rough.” There was a reason they named it after the queen of the underworld; the springs and summers were beautiful, perfect for farming, but the winters were cold as the deepest circle of hell. He preferred Harmony’s weather. It was milder overall.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind them. Where are you from?”

“Harmony. We don’t get snowed in so much, at least not where I am. How much family?”

“Mom’s sister and brother and my dad’s brother. And their spouses. And cousins. Couple of them are from the core, too, but the others are Frontier babies. You?”

“Me and my sister. She, uh, passed pretty early on, actually. Harmony wasn’t so well-developed then, doctors couldn’t get there fast enough…” The memory was a dull ache, now, but still an ache. “She had a little girl. I’ve been looking after her ever since. Cassie. She’s a good kid.” He huffed in a quiet laugh. “She’s going to give me a piece of her mind when she finds out about this, I can tell you that.”

“I bet. I’m sorry about your sister, sir.”

“Not your fault.” It was no one’s fault, really. You’d think that would make it harder to bear, but in some ways it made it easier. It wasn’t malice or deliberate incompetence, the way a lot of other injustices in Lastimosa’s life had been. Just bad luck. Nothing personal. “Do you remember anything about Earth?”

Cooper shook his head. “I was too young. I remember the ship, kind of. I know I got sick when we first came to Persephone. Not _bad_ , but…”

Lastimosa grimaced sympathetically. “Sinus infection?” Cooper nodded. “Me, too. They were pretty common with new settlers. Still think it fucked my sense of sm-“

Something bigger than a small, tree-bound critter scampered nearby. Lastimosa and Cooper froze simultaneously, aiming their weapons towards whatever it was. The rustling grew louder, but what emerged, staring up at their guns with a nonchalant stare, was definitely not a threat.

Lastimosa sighed heavily and lowered his weapon. “ _Shit…_ fat little bastards.” Actually, the creatures were called tumblers. They looked like someone had mashed up an armadillo and a reptile, gave it the ability to roll out of danger like a sentient tire, and slapped in the personality of a barn cat for good measure. “Get out of here, don’t you know there’s a war on?”

The tumbler sniffed at him and waddled on past. Cooper stepped aside to let it access the next cluster of bushes. “We have those on Persephone,” he said.

“No kidding?”

“Yeah. Do you ever wonder about that?” Cooper gave the area one last sweep before he started walking again. “I know there are Howlers on…what, three different planets? Four?”

“Something like that. Most common theory is they were the pets of whatever left all those old ruins lying around.” Lastimosa couldn’t imagine those things ever being kept as pets, but he’d never seen one tame before. He imagined that a feral dog wouldn’t seem like a good pet to someone who’d never met a tame one. “Where do you think they went?”

Cooper shrugged. “One of my cousins thinks there was a plague or something. I always figured there would be more bodies if it were that. Maybe they just…left? Went somewhere else? Their loss if they did. It’s beautiful here.”

Lastimosa took another look around. He hadn’t been able to appreciate it before, and it wasn’t Harmony, but the kid had a point. “Yeah. It really is.”

They didn’t talk much after that, focusing their energy on finding the road and keeping an eye out for enemies. They were eventually able to find the road, and with it…

“It look like someone’s been here to you?” Lastimosa asked.

Cooper nodded. “Ground troops, no big trucks?” he said hesitantly. He started speaking much more confidently when Lastimosa nodded in approval. “Footprints don’t look like ours. Could be an advanced strike team? Trying to hunt our guys down…or make sure the road is clear for the truck.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. Which means you and I…” Lastimosa started walking again. “…are in a good place to set up an ambush. What kind of ordinance do you have on you?”

“Some frag grenades. One smoke grenade. Whatever ammo I have left. You?”

“MGL has some shots left. Wingman, CAR…” He checked his belt. “Couple of firestars and my data knife. You still have yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. We’ll make it work.” He glanced back Cooper’s way with a curious look. “Where’d you get a data knife, anyway? They don’t usually give those to infantry.”

“Oh, I uh….bought it, actually. Birthday present to myself, I guess. Figured it would come in handy.”

Lastimosa laughed. “Well, you weren’t wrong about that.”

His leg was starting to ache again, but he was able to keep it together a bit longer.  Lucky him, there was a rocky overhand with enough brush for them to hide among. Cooper had to help him up, and he caught the rifleman giving him a few concerned glances as he did, but they had a good vantage point once they were up there. “You may have to do a lot of the heavy lifting here,” Lastimosa said as they settled down and Cooper broke out an ice pack for his knee. “I’m not as mobile as I’d like to be, but if you can keep them distracted, I’ll be able to slip in and take out the jammer while they’re looking the other way.”

“I can do that. And…” Cooper shrugged. “Even if I die, I can at least try to make it a distracting death.”

“Well, shit, kid, try not to do that. I’m gonna need all the backup I can get. And you’ll have a hell of a story to tell once this is over.”

“That’s true. I don’t think any of my friends are going to believe this. I mean…crazy odds, right?”

“Damn _good_ luck for both of us, I think.”

Cooper nodded, though he looked strangely bashful at the comment. Lastimosa again wondered if this kid had ever been given a compliment. “You’ll be able to call in for support once it’s down, right?” Cooper said, clearly trying to change the subject.

“That’s the idea.” He saw a spark of excitement in the rifleman’s eyes. “You ever seen a Vanguard up close before?”

“No, sir. What’s their name?”

“His name’s BT. He’s old for a Titan. Two years, about.”

Cooper looked impressed. “You two have really looked after each other, huh?”

“We’re a team. That’s what being a pilot is all about.” Lastimosa checked on his knee. Still swollen, but it was looking better. “I know the IMC likes to treat them like they’re disposable…”

“They treat everything like it’s disposable.”

Lastimosa snorted. “But that’s not how we do things.”

“Damn right.” Some of the excitement in Cooper’s eyes faded as he glanced at Lastimosa’s leg. “How’s that feeling?”

“I’ll live.” He’d be a lot better off once BT was there to do the walking. “You need a nap?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Actually, yeah.” Lastimosa wasn’t ashamed to admit it; they’d been walking most of the day, and pain always did a number on energy levels. “You mind waking me in twenty?”

“Sure thing.”

That, of course, assumed Lastimosa would be able to sleep. He knew he should, just to keep his head on straight, but he was feeling on-edge in a way that would probably keep him up.

Quick catnap, then. He’d take what rest he could. Lastimosa leaned against a nearby tree and closed his eyes.

Maybe his knee would hurt less when he woke up. A man could hope.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as screechthemighty, blogging about a billion different fandoms and sometimes posting footage of myself NOT sucking at Titanfall 2. My ask box is always open for questions, headcanon chats, and screaming.


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